James
by La Mariannette
Summary: It wasn't so much that he loved her, or that he grew up. It was that he was. And that he became. And that he grew. Well, she did too, in the end.
1. Internal Reflections

A/N – **Disclaimer**: _Harry Potter_ is not mine, but rather J.K. Rowling's. I have only taken her ideas and moulded them, they are – as ever – hers.

He looked around him and smiled. Leaning back, he ran a hand through his hair. It was an old habit of his, a cocky move in his earlier youth that had become something between an unconscious gesture and a nervous habit. His lips quirked as he heard the snore beside him. Beside him his best friend slept, the discomfort of the train the obvious source of his sudden propensity to snore. Only a year ago he would have woken his friend, needing the company, but he knew that his companion was exhausted. He was far from alert himself, but he was learning to revel in such placid silences. His companion, his age-old friend, found silence to be a cheap metal rather than the gold of old expressions, and his witty sarcasm was an endless source of amusement. Even at the worst times, they could entertain each other. He, with his ability to elaborate on anything, and his friend, with his sarcasm, were constants in each other's life. They were closer than brothers, like twins, and he laughed as his sleeping friend grunted and attempted to shift into a more comfortable position.

"Not likely, Padfoot," he said aloud, smiling as he watched the tall, muscular young man wriggle in the stiff compartment seat. He stretched, his long, wiry body pulling taunt. It was a lovely ride, out into the countryside, and he knew that in a few hours the pair of them would be revelling in being with their two other halves. Or quarters, really, he mused with a smile. And in a few weeks they would be on their way to school. Back, for a final year. He had already received his badge, proof that he really had been appointed Head Boy. Oh, his surrogate twin had teased him about it endlessly! Not that his marks were bad. It was more a matter of reputation.

He could never be sure who had a worse reputation, especially with the teachers, himself or his best friend. The entire drawers devoted to their petty "crimes" was lasting testament to that. They rarely caused harm, merely chaos. And they loved it. Well, _he_ rarely caused harm. His best friend was a little more reckless with human life. His best friend was also indestructible. He had been the same way for much of his youth, until his father had dragged himself to the doorstep, covered in blood. Watching an idol, as well as a father, die was enough to warn even the most foolhardy of daredevils that death was an option. He swallowed, the mere memory tightening his throat. What a Christmas that had been. And how bravely, how marvelously, his friends had stood beside him. After that he had grown up.

There had been no other choice. He smiled as he thought of his father, of how proud he would have been to see the Head Boy badge on his prankster son. His father was an intelligent man, and he had passed his intelligence onto his only child. From the beginning, he had been taught to read. Unfortunately, he could not claim the title of a reader the way his prefect friend could. Still, he was better than the sleeping figure beside him. Though the sleeping figure had that annoying ability to remember everything he read after a single look. He would acknowledge that he was naturally intelligent, but he studied, somewhat, to get his marks. His best friend slept his way through class and after a single reading managed to be in the top of the class. Shaking his head, he smiled again.

If they were books, rather than people, his best friend would be a thesaurus, an endless comparison of countless definitions without really knowing what a single one meant. He, the semi-intellectual one of the group, would be a dictionary, a massive collection of definitions that probed the meaning without fully understanding the concept. Their favourite prefect, their mutual best friend, would be an encyclopaedia, a multi-volume work of meanings that delved into the essence of a concept. The fourth addition, their favourite little counterpart, would be a pocket pal, a relatively superficial guide of everything necessary to get by. Between the four of them, they could do anything. From survival to creativity to definition to essence, they had everything.

He was jealously protective of his friends. Not that he, or any of them, had any problems with popularity. Still, they were his friends, his special family, and their bond ran thicker than the superficiality of blood. Whoever had said blood runs thicker than water had never seen the power in their bonds. His best friend understood that reality and practiced it possessively. So between the overprotective one and the possessive one, it was no trouble that they would be best friends, brothers, even before they bonded with their other two best friends. Nothing could come between them, ever.

Not even death. It had tried, just recently, but they had pushed it back. Well, he had, for his best friend had taunted it too foolishly. Because they were a pair, because the group was bound by something inexplicable and powerful, it wasn't even betrayal. It was a foolish mistake. Though it took much difficulty to forgive, it was then easily forgotten, except in pensive moments such as these.

But pensive moments easily turn to sleepy ones, especially in tired young men. As such, his eyes dutifully fell shut and the images of the countryside were replaced by dreams. Dreams of impenetrable friendships, and a certain young woman who had wormed her way into his heart. And when the images were again replaced, it was by a smiling young man. A pale, brown-haired, deep-eyed, thoughtful, and currently ecstatic young man whose joy was instantly contagious, "Prongs! Padfoot! Wake up, you're here! Come on, everything's waiting!"


	2. External Refractions

He had been arrogant at one point in time. Even now traces of his arrogance lingered, though they resembled self-confidence rather than the egocentric attitude of his youth. He imagined that others conjured up romantic images of his arrogance and how it faded. After all, arrogance was borne of insecurity as often as from confidence. Well, no romantic images of a tortured young boy in his life. He was intelligent and well liked, had grown up with a wonderful family, was surrounded by his friends at all times, and was never given the opportunity to feel unloved. While he was still far from handsome, he was charming. His best friend was the handsome one, though his rough manner led others to think him cold, harsh, and often on the verge of cruel. He, however, had the smile, the innate pleasantry that made him as pleasing as his devastatingly handsome counterpart.

No, his arrogance was entirely borne of self-confidence. Still, he had heard younger children in the common room gasp about their interpretations of what tragic life had leant him his insecure arrogance. Considering he was now far from a cocky young man, the stories were dutifully accompanied by how he lost his arrogance. Of course, like every good romantic story, the lovely young woman, and the excellent friends, swept into his life, convinced him of his worth, and he learned to love himself. Well, the source of his deflation was correct. Except it was backwards. His arrogance faded out of duty, out of love, to those four people.

Yes, his arrogance had been entirely immature and reckless. He learned that the hard way. Life had reached a point where he had been faced with two options: abandon arrogance for maturity or risk the welfare and esteem of the people dearest to his heart. He dared not say he loved them, for there was too much power in the word love, but in reality he did love them. In that the two options had never really existed, for he was bound to give up on arrogance. It was no modern fairy tale where the damsel rescues her distressed knight. It was more of a damsel noticing the man beneath the knight after he removed his blindingly shiny armour.

Not that he minded. After all, he was lighter without the armour. And the emeralds in the damsel's eyes were a treasure well worth the risk. And the silk in the damsel's touch on his cheek was more than worth the effort. And just the thought of her put an extra light in his day. He loved thinking of her, watching her, feeling her presence. He loved the way she would talk, deep and passionate, with their favourite encyclopaedia. He loved the way she would sit, gentle and loving, with their favourite companion. He loved the way she would laugh, innocent and free, with his best friend. He loved the way she would sit, talk, laugh, and exist, entirely unafraid to be herself, with him. He loved that she trusted him enough to be herself unconditionally around him, and that he trusted her enough to do the same. He loved that she had been difficult to convince.

She had been difficult. She had not like the arrogant young man he had been. In fact, she very much disliked him. However, when the confident, charming man emerged she had given up her old ways. It was an impressive feat, with her stubborn tendencies, and their Head Duties had bound them together often. She had warmed to him, naturally, for she began to see the man behind the mask, and he had fallen even harder for her. They were good friends quickly, and she fell into place with the group easily. He loved that about her, and they all loved her for it.

She had brought her friends with her, sweet Frank and Alice, a pair so blindingly _good_ that his own quartet often ached with guilt. Even the good boy of the group looked malicious in comparison. But Frank and Alice, true to their goodness, embraced humanity, complete with its flaws, and loved the quartet for it. It eased their guilt, knowing that they were cared for by a duo that they had grown to love. It was the fearsome four and the golden trio. The school pranksters had grown up, a little, and taken their place to stand beside the genuine good hearts of the school. My, what a turn life had taken!

He thanked her for that, and himself for his good choice in growing up. It had been time, anyway. It was nearly Christmas, a week before their last chance to go to into town to do their Christmas shopping. He was excited, thrilled, and could think of nothing more divinely pleasant than spending the day with his friends, old and new. Though a part of him, a part he was long familiar with, ached to take his fair flower away, just the two of them. He had stopped pestering her, out of respect and affection for her, and for now friendship was enough. But he ached, every time he watched her move, to hold her. Not even anything sexual, which is quite a feat for a teenage boy, but just to be with her, to feel and know that she was in his arms. He wondered if now, after nearly a year, would her answer have changed if he asked her to town. He was considering it, feeling that it may well be his last opportunity.

She was his first love, and quite probably his last. He had her memorized. He knew what tone of voice accompanied what mood, what laugh meant what, which smile was the real smile, how she walked, how she sat when most relaxed, the look in her eyes when something surprised her, how her eyes glittered with every microscopic change in her mood. Oh, he had fallen deeply for this girl. She wasn't the most beautiful girl in the school, but that didn't matter. The way she looked up at him when he ran into their meetings ten minutes late, covered in mud from practice, was something he would never forget. The way she would laugh at his jokes and shake her head, pretending she wasn't amused, was something he would never tire of. The way she threw herself into his arms and hugged him when she was happiest, that most of all, was something he wanted as desperately as any man can want.

He looked away from the window and jumped. Hand on his heart, he couldn't even pretend to look calm about it, she had just scared ten years off his life. Of all the people to be sitting beside him, it just had to be her.

"Lily! You scared me!"

"I noticed." She was smiling, reaching out to pat his hand reassuringly. "What are you doing over here?"

"Sitting in a corner by myself."

There it was, the twitching lips as she giggled, shaking her head. The look on her face was exasperated, but the look in her eyes was pleasantly entertained. "I'd have never guessed, James. Really."

"Thinking about you."

Now she didn't have to pretend. The cynicism she was so good at coated her features, though she was still smiling, and her eyebrow lifted in an obvious reflection of her emotions. He smiled.

"Really, I was. About you and how thanks to you we've become friends with Frank and Alice. And how glad I am that I matured, at least enough for you and I to become friends. That was why you scared me so badly, of all the people, it had to be the one I was thinking about."

She laughed now, her smile genuine, and she squeezed his hand. "You're funny sometimes, James. So very multi-dimensional. All four of you."

"Is that a good thing?"

"Oh, it's divine. There's always something to look for, something to surprise me. Alice and Frank notice it too, but they don't know you quite as well as I do."

"I see. You look pretty today. Why the makeup?"

She shrugged, brushing her hair away from her face. It was true, her freckles were hardly noticeable and her eyes caught you before she even opened them. "I wanted to."

"Not impressing anyone?"

"There's nobody here that I feel the need to impress."

"Good." He said it and he meant it. And at the look swimming into her eyes, he felt the need to explain it. "If there's anyone here who isn't impressed by you as it is, they don't deserve to see you done up. You're perfect just the way you are."

"Now James," she was blushing now, and she had let go of his hand. "If I didn't know any better, I would say you're trying to flatter me. And it looks awfully like flirting."

"Not so much, Lily. Just the truth."

She smiled at him, shaking her head. And they fell silent, sitting together, looking out the window. They had these silences often. They were far from uncomfortable, they were something that they both looked forward to. Especially when she would take his hand and lean on his shoulder. She took his hand, but there was something not quite right about the way she sat so rigidly.

"What's wrong? You're tense."

"I'm thinking about how to do something."

"What? Maybe I can help."

She smiled. He always jumped forward to help her. Not because he doubted her ability, but because he loved knowing he had done something for her. She understood that now. And always, just like now, she smiled.

"Not really. Thanks though."

It became quiet again, not quite the comfortable silence he was wishing for. She was too tense, as if she was nervous about something. And he smiled as she turned, facing him, her tone suddenly brisk and business-like. "James."

"Yes?"

The gentle anticipation in his voice calmed her and she smiled, relaxing as she looked at him. Her voice softened as well, becoming the sweet melody he loved hearing, "I was wondering if you wanted to come to Hogsmeade with me next week."

"We're already going together. We made all the plans, the seven of us, at dinner yesterday. Don't tell me you already forgot!"

"James." There was a slight urgency in her voice now, and she squeezed his hands. "I mean me. Just me."

He froze, staring at her. It was as if his deepest dreams were coming true. Fantasy was becoming reality. He smiled, squeezing her hands in return, and leaned forward to kiss her forehead gently. One hand reached up to touch her face, to stroke her cheek, and his voice was soft, "There is nothing, _nothing_, I would rather do."

She smiled, her real smile, and squeezed the hand still in hers. There was ecstasy in her eyes as she stood. "I should go tell Frank and Alice that I won't be spending the other half of the day with them."

"I don't think they'll mind."

"No, no. They won't."

He let her go, but his voice stopped her less than two metres away. "Thank you."

She turned back, a frown of confusion etched between her brows. "For what?"

"For being worth growing up."

She couldn't even smile as she stared at him. And she had worried that his feelings for her had dwindled. Apparently she had gotten it backwards. Stepping forward, she saw what he needed, what he had been waiting for. And she gave it to him, willingly.

Her arms came around him, not the happy fling of arms around his neck that she did when she was pleased or excited, not the desperate burial into his chest that she did when she was upset, but a gentle embrace that held him close to her. His arms came around her instantly, wrapped tightly around her slender frame, and he closed his eyes and inhaled her. This had been what he was waiting for. This had been worth the wait.

Eventually he released her, a natural action as they had both gotten what they needed. Her lips touched his cheek, lingered there for a moment, and her voice was soft, "Thank you for being worth the wait."

She stood up and headed off, stopping again when she heard his voice. "You were waiting for me?"

She turned back slowly, a soft smile on her features. He knew the answer, and it left him breathless and blissful. Still, she looked at him. And nodded.


	3. The Ripple Effect

In the other corner, the young man shook his black hair out of his face and extended his hand. "Pay up, they got together."

The brunette shook his head, a sly smile on his features. "Nuh-uh. You said they would get together and kiss."

"So there wasn't a snog-fest. They got together, didn't they?"

"I said she would ask him and nothing would happen."

The smile on the young man's face fell and he glared at the smug expression on his partner's pale, wan face. "You knew something. You dirty cheater."

"I did know something. I knew Lily Evans. You were thinking only James Potter."

He was right and they both knew it. And despite the glares and grumbles from the handsome young man, they were both pleased. As the young man flicked his hair out of his face effortlessly, dropping a handful of coins into his friend's hand, he smiled, clapping the man on the back. All was well in the world. All was very well.

**-- FIN --**


	4. Just a Little to Tide You Over

_**A Note from the Author**_

_James_ was not my first story, nor is it quite my baby. It _is_ a jewel amongst the pieces I have written, and I love that story shamelessly. If you all have enjoyed my short, all _too_ short, story even a fraction of as much as I have enjoyed being a part of it, then my duty has been successfully accomplished.

As you've noticed, doubtless, I'm not much of one for long Author's Notes or giving you my personal story before and after every chapter. I'm not in this for the reviews, regardless of whether they're praises or curses, and I won't ask anyone to do anything they won't do voluntarily. For those of you who do review, _thank you_. For those of you who don't, but who read every word just the same, _thank you_ as well.

With the exception of _The Patronus_ and _What Happens Next_, both of which have the first instalments already posted, all of my stories will only appear after I have finished them. Editing will occur as the story progresses, but all of my work _is_ complete from before its first appearance. I understand the anguish of falling in love with a story only to have it abandoned, and I'd rather not subject anyone else to it. As for _The Patronus_ and _What Happens Next_, they _will _be finished – it's just a matter of when.

My next story will be _The Dream_, a synopsis of which is on my profile. Below, if you should be so inclined, is a bit of a peek into the story. I've chosen the selections carefully, such that none of the excerpts give away any major plot points, but I do believe that each selection captures an element of the story quite in its entirety.

Thank you, for reading _James_, and I do sincerely hope that you enjoyed every word of it. My James was not a one-sided creature: he wasn't deeply flawed or pristinely good, he was neither wholly admirable nor wholly detestable, he was neither selfish nor selfless, he was nothing more than a person caught in the process of growing into himself. His friends, his companions, were at the same time _integral_ to his personality and completely _superfluous_ to the essence of what made him. He's one of those people you'd stop to "people watch" for a moment, intrigued and amused, and then continue on your way without a second thought. He's one of those people you'd see once in passing, without the slightest inclination to his character, and ponder, _obsess_, over for days afterwards, just wondering. He's both of them, and neither. There's so much to him, to his life and to his personality, that's left unsaid and untouched. That's exactly as I'd intended to leave him. Because this way, you see, he's real.

* * *

_**Chapter I – Remind Me Why**_

_Rolling his eyes, Remus said without a trace of compassion, "I think Quirke had a point there Padfoot. Grow up."_

_Transforming into Padfoot, the large shaggy dog grinned at Remus as the two walked out after the girls. They found them on a patio, Alice Quirke sitting with her legs stretched out before her as Celaeno Venatici lay on her back on the wood, staring up at the stars. With a soft bark of an idea, the large dog went over and licked the hand of the fair and elegant girl. Sighing, her voice was the soft lyrical tones that the boys were accustomed to, "I don't even need to think on that one. You're named after the dog star, Sirius Black, and you're one to become an unregistered animagus. That one's too easy. Besides, you think I didn't figure out where 'Padfoot' and 'Moony' came from? Did you become an animagus because of Lupin and full moons? That's why you, Potter, and Peter are always tired when Lupin gets back."_

_Without so much as a playful bark, Sirius Black returned to his breathtaking form and stared at her, "Was it really that easy?"_

_**Chapter II – Ha, Ha, Ha**_

_"You're Sirius," Cela pointed out gently, looking unfazed. "Look, Sirius. I know what my father is capable of, better than you do. But even Procyon Venatici would have a bloody good reason to hurt me for someone else's sake. He has no idea that I even know who Lily Evans is, and I plan on keeping it that way. You're being foolish, the associations they would be talking about for me turning into a blood-traitor and all that posh would be __you__."_

_"Me?"_

_Alice rolled her eyes as realization hit Remus. "Of course. Pureblood, influential family, Gryffindor in the same year, openly against Voldemort, obviously no problems with muggles or muggleborns, you and James are exactly the kind of enemy they don't want to be making."_

_"They also think James and I are too stuck-up and frivolous to ever be a threat to them."_

_"But combined with a person like Cela, especially with Dumbledore backing you, even without James you could pose a credible threat. That's what they're worried about."_

_Sirius looked at Alice, the words seeping into him. Reaching out, he touched her arm gently and smiled, "Well, if they're going to worry about us, let's give them more than they ever bargained for."_

_Relieved that Sirius was no longer worried, Cela leaned into Remus, pulling him to the ground and resting on his shoulder. Eyes travelling up to Sirius and Alice, motioning them to sit, she entreated, "I don't want to give anybody anything right now. Let's just sit and talk, okay?"_

_Eyes narrowing inadvertently as Remus leaned and kissed her gently, Sirius sat in the plush armchair as Alice stretched beside the fireplace. "You're so cute Mira. Ha, ha, ha."_

_**Chapter III – Please**_

_Cold laughter filling their ears, the two felt their souls break a little as the door flew open and they had to face Mira Celaeno. The man was still inside her, and her desperate attempts to fight faded into shame and horror. Tears trickled over her white cheeks, mixing with blood and sweat, and she stilled. She convulsed, blood bubbling from her lips as she bit her tongue to stop another scream. She didn't want them to see her like this; she didn't want them to be a part of this. She had asked for this, hadn't she? To get them out of this hell, and it had backfired._

_"Leave her alone! Bloody hell! Please, leave her alone! Please, dear Merlin!"_

_Silently she prayed for Sirius to shut up, though Remus' terrified silence drove burning needles through her already shattered heart. What was left of her shuddered, tears streaming over her cheeks as she heard Sirius scream, throwing himself at the Death Eaters. Grabbed firmly around the chest, Sirius found himself looking into the cold eyes of Procyon Venatici. "I told you to stay out, didn't I? Get the other one out of here, he and the girl are supposed to leave now anyway. Put this one where he can watch. Let him see what his __protection__ got this bitch. It won't hurt him."_

_"Please," Sirius begged, terror on his face as Mira Celaeno lay motionless, her tears the only sign of life from her still form._

_Remus grabbed at Sirius as he felt the other boy be pulled away. "No! Please!"_

_"__Please__, oh look at me! __Please__!"_

_Tears burning his eyes at the mockery, his eyes locked on Sirius', and he nodded as Sirius mouthed, "The Ministry. Get to the Ministry."_

_**Chapter IV – Promise Me**_

_She lay there, still as her dark eyes stared up at the ceiling in the dark. There was no one there. Nobody knew she was awake. That was how she wanted it. She didn't want them there, not yet. In the cold, dark silence she felt safe. Nobody would get her here. She felt secure, and only one thing could have made her feel more so. Hugging herself in the darkness, feeling tears creep past her guard, she whispered brokenly, "You promised me. Just come back and I promise I'll – I promise."_

_**Chapter V – The Aftermath**_

1_"Was she worth it?" James asked, looking at his best friends with the eyes of a man many years their senior. "Look at what happened. Was she really worth it?"_

_Alice looked up and gaped at him, stunned he could even say such a thing, but Remus spoke first, "More than you will ever know Prongs. More than you can even imagine."_

_Turning to face them, Lily asked softly, her own memory of last night leaving her certain that she knew the answer, "Did you love her?"_

_Eyes closing on pain, Sirius nodded, "I do. More than you know Lily Evans. I can't remember ever loving anyone like I love her."_

_"Look what happened because of her," James repeated numbly, shaking his head in disbelief._

_Something in Sirius broke and his eyes darkened dangerously. Alice stood and approached him as Remus looked at her beseechingly. They knew what to do when his eyes were violent and savage like that._

_**Chapter VI – The Return**_

_As Mira Celaeno stuck her tongue out again, Elizabeth Potter couldn't help but laugh as James reached out and grabbed it. Wagging his other hand at her disapprovingly, he said firmly, "Now, now, Celaeno. What have you been taught about sticking your tongue out? Especially at the breakfast table! What would your mother say? Now, say sorry and I'll give you your tongue back."_

_With an expression of childish innocence, Celaeno looked utterly distraught and James yelped in pain and surprise as she bit him soundly. "Ow! That hurt! Bloody hell Cela, that's my hand!"_

_"Language, James Potter," his mother warned with a cuff on the back of the head._

_Alternating between rubbing his head and his hand, he glared at Cela as she smiled. "That's why you don't grab people's tongues, James. That's disgusting. How do you know where my tongue's been?"_

_"Ew, Cela, bad images. I'm trying to eat!"_

_**Chapter VII – Growing Up**_

_"He's my best friend, Lily, don't tell me not to put him first. You know that's how it goes."_

_Frowning, James looked between the two, asking carefully, "What's going on Padfoot? Lily, what's he talking about?"_

_"When was the last time you asked her out, Prongs?"_

_Eyes widening, James turned to Lily, mouthing soundlessly before managing, "Are you saying –"_

_"I'm not saying anything, James. Sirius is. But the only way to do anything properly is to speak for yourself."_

_"So you'll go out with me?"_

_Laughing, Lily looked at him and tilted her head. "Why am I not surprised?"_

_"What?"_

_"You __would__ be the one not to catch on that now's the time to be romantic, not dense."_

_"But you will, right?"_

_Rolling her eyes as she smiled, she nodded and looked at Sirius gently, "I guess I may as well."_

_**Chapter VIII – Realizations**_

_James nodded, knowing there was nothing he could say to that, and looked sideways at Remus. They had all expected, especially Sirius, for Remus and Cela to end up together, but time had turned traitor on them all and the love between the two blossomed into a friendship. A friendship so deep and powerful that it often made James and Sirius twinge with unwanted jealousy. As the messy-haired man walked beside his childhood friend, he realized how much Remus loved the woman and felt his jaw tighten. For a moment he wondered if Remus would be as deeply hurt if he were to die, and then scolded himself for being so childish. And as he nudged the werewolf and grinned, he had no idea that he would do exactly that – die._

_**Chapter IX – I Love You**_

_"I think we scared James and Lily. Let's go see them, and then we can go back home."_

_She nodded, running into the kitchen and flinging her arms around James' neck. "I love you, James. You're my favourite male Potter."_

_"I know – wait! I'm the only male Potter!" Lily laughed and kissed her husband's cheek as Sirius snorted. Hugging Cela in return, holding her against him, James looked at his best friend. "Sorted things out, have you mate? Next time try to do it without roping my wife into it, could you? I'd had a nice, quiet dinner planned."_

_"A quiet dinner with you James? Lily knows not to get her hopes up that high."_

_**Chapter X – Halloween**_

_"I love you so much."_

_"So much it hurts."_

_She shook her head, looking up at him with a searching, probing gaze. "No. So much that it's stopped hurting. So much that I can't escape it, it's there all the time. Every day, every moment of my life, it's as much a part of me as breathing or my heart beating. I don't just love you. My life is loving you. It's not just something I do. It's who I am now."_

_**Chapter XI – To The Death**_

_"We should have random midnight swimming sessions too, in the summer."_

_"And snowball fights in the winter?"_

_"Oooh, that would be so much fun!"_

_She sounded like a child, and he grinned as his hand crashed onto her face. Grinding the snow into her face, he laughed as she sputtered. "Sirius Black! That was bloody freezing!"_

_"It's snow, what'd you expect?"_

_He yelped as she threw chunks of snow at him, laughing as he spat out snow. Making a rough snowball, he rubbed it into her hair and screeched as she dumped snow down his front. "Bloody hell Mira! Shit!"_

_Leaning back, rocking on her bum as she wrapped her arms around her knees, she laughed helplessly. "You look so silly, Sirius."_

_"Oh yeah?"_


End file.
